


Part of the job

by hkandi



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Death, Grief/Mourning, Just getting this off my chest, Loss, thanks for reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 05:23:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19805623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hkandi/pseuds/hkandi
Summary: Iruka has learned of the deaths of former students and reflects on it





	Part of the job

(I don't own Iruka or anything Naruto related. Though I'd like to give him a hug.)

Iruka sat in his apartment in the evening at his kitchen table, a cup of tea next to him, watching the sun set and the room, no, village, gradually darken.

He sighed.

It had been one of those days, where he learned of the deaths of former students.

It was part of life, he mused. For a shinobi, at least. Violence, fighting, death, destruction. Saving others, helping others, making a difference, if you were lucky. If you were really, really lucky, you made it. Lived. With only minor scarring or injury.

His two former students were not so lucky.

He took a sip of the tea and returned the cup to its original spot.

“It’s my job,” he said to himself. “To train future generations, to share the will of fire.”

And it was, and he was good at it, he really was. But it was inevitable that not everyone would survive this line of work, nor that some of his students would not make it more than a few years, if that.

It wasn’t their ages at time of death that affected him. No, it was just the overall loss.

It never gets any easier, he thought. These were not the first students he had lost, and they would not be the last.

Still…

He thought about what he had heard. One, a younger one admittedly, had died by his own hands, in a way. Not suicide, but either showboating or rushing into a situation in a headstrong way, not waiting for his team, being as aware of the area as he could have, should have been. 

Iruka had cautioned him and others many, many times about the importance of teamwork. Utilizing your supports. Having all your tools ready. Being vigilant, always being vigilant of your safety and of your goals.

His former student had said he understood, that there were risks involved. That his life was, quite literally, on the line. That any doubt or unsurety could cost him dearly.

In the end, it did. 

Iruka knew he and others had done all they could, that it was the former student’s decision, combined with perhaps bad luck, or bad timing, or both, that had ended his life.

It didn’t make it any easier.

He had such promise, he really did.

Iruka felt sad for his former student’s family he was leaving behind. If he recalled, a grandmother, parents, siblings, and a girlfriend. Perhaps it was a silver lining that there had been someone to welcome him home from missions for his short life. Someone to fight for.

Sometimes, Iruka thought, people forget how their actions affect those in their life, not just their immediate peers or friends or family.

Iruka had last seen this student only eight days before his death. Not that anyone knew it was coming then, naturally. He had seemed so full of hope, but also, Iruka thought, a hint of doubt. Unsurety. Starting to question his ability, but also so full of life and strength. Laughing with his former classmates over dinner.

The other former student was older, and Iruka did not know the cause of death. It was, possibly, the same as the other’s. Poor decisions made by him, to be blunt. Though, Iruka thought he could remember hearing that he had some health concerns recently? This one he had not seen for several months, and the student had, admittedly, been hard to read many times. Distant, cold, and Iruka had not been sure how much of what he was ever told truly sunk in.

Iruka shook his head and sighed.

It didn’t matter.

They were both gone.

Iruka rubbed his face with his hands and watched the last of the sun say goodbye.

He would put on a strong face and enter the classroom tomorrow, and teach his current students. The ones who still enjoyed playing and recess, who still thought shinobi were invincible. Who knew what the memorial stone was, but didn’t quite make the connection. Unless they had also lost someone whose name appeared on it.

Some days, he wanted to scream at them in frustration.

“Don’t you see? This isn’t a game! People die from this every day! You’re sitting here like it’s a joke, and it’s not! I’ve lost so many former students to this, and just the ones that I’ve heard of. Others die and nobody knows. This is real life! Your very lives are on the line! Look around, the reality is that one or more of you will not, I repeat, will not, make it. One or more will die within a few years of leaving the academy. It’s not a lie, it’s fact. If we’re lucky, you will experience failure but be able to return, to learn and grow and change. If we’re lucky, if you’re lucky. Because not everyone makes it back. This is just so, so serious.”

How Iruka wanted to say that to his students. But it was unprofessional, and honestly, in a way, they had heard it all before. It just didn’t really sink in. 

Death and loss and danger seemed so distant to them. Surely, they were safe. Surely, they would be among those who made it, they would say. But learning within the academy and village and practicing it on missions with enemy nin setting traps and jutsu and sharp pointy things at them was different. 

In short, becoming a shinobi was one thing, but really utilizing your skills was another.

Iruka rubbed his forehead. He felt tired, so tired.

Still, this was what he felt called to do. To teach, to share information and knowledge and help them learn and grow and make informed decisions and succeed. And he knew that many did succeed, they really did.

He would put on a collected face tomorrow, and persevere. As he always did. As his fellow teachers, fellow shinobi did, when they experienced loss. 

And hope that it would be a while until he heard this news again. Because it was not a question of if, but when.

It never gets any easier.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m in the helping profession and learned of deaths of former clients this week, and it’s been on my mind. And I reflected that Iruka probably experiences the same thing. So, I guess this was me grieving and processing this myself.
> 
> If you or someone in your life is experiencing a crisis, of any kind, please reach out to someone for help. An emergency hotline, crisis hotline, crisis center, emergency room, etc. Anything.
> 
> Peace and love,
> 
> hkandi


End file.
